Loose Ends
by CreationStartsWithUs
Summary: AU: When everything you know and love has been stripped from you; you find you are left bare. This is a world where medication is handed out like candy and you are allowed no sharp objects. Nolan Ross and Emily Thorne are not as we know them, but that does not mean they can't change. This is Allenwood.
1. Welcome to Allenwood

Her hair was the color of tortoiseshell and her nails like a robin's egg blue. She had painted them for Palm Sunday which usually involved her family chatting and coaxing each other to drink more over lamb with mint jelly. This holiday was lain to waste as flies collected in tea cups and little girls in fluffy dresses were stained red like melting candy apples. There was a journal she had kept filled with chicken scratch and only doodles she could understand in the corner of the room that had gone untouched during the massacre. It would go into a box labeled evidence when the little drops of blood were discovered during the investigation which required more yellow tape than she had ever thought possible.

His father knew the names of every pub in the area but he couldn't remember his son's birthday which his mother found problematic. She would wipe her hands on her apron meant for the meal she had failed to cook day in and day out expecting to find dirt but she would come up empty. She blamed the stove and said it was because the flame never went high enough and she didn't have the patience for it but his father called it laziness. Both parents were lazy with words and often their tongues were tied, his tongue however was always flapping and dipped in wit.

Linked by tragedy, heartbreak and abuse…this is their story, this is them, and this is us.

* * *

Outside the walls of Allenwood Psychiatric Facility was a metal gate with points at the top to keep trespassers out and patients in. The center was deemed safest in the state and it wasn't built like a prison but they still had to have their regulations and old fashion standards. A few miles down the way was a horse farm that was open for visitors and around Halloween it became a pumpkin patch built for the season. Around that time the walls of the home for the mentally unstable became crowded and loud and young teenagers were seen gawking outside of those same metal gates or as Nurse Milligan called it, loitering. The horse farm was a real treat for those inside of Allenwood. It was a place they could go and be gentle to the animals and munch on fresh fruit, apples ripe from trees that had been there before the asylum was even built. The asylum was built in the late forties and had been renovated over and over again but echoes of the past still remained inside and the old furniture and equipment was kept in the basement, everything that hadn't been burned.

Emily Thorne was no stranger to getting burned, she felt as if her life had been set up to be one cruel joke. The massacre was the final straw though and she knew she had to be locked away forever. She knew they had to throw away the key because she highly doubted the fact that she could possible one day be able to lead a normal life. When they told Emily that she was going to be admitted to Allenwood she was not surprised or hesitant. After watching your family get slaughtered in front of you there seemed to be a lack of options anyway so she packed her suitcase and bought a new journal hoping they would let her write down her thoughts as a way to heal. She knew every place had their processes and experimental ways of getting things done but what seemed to help her was writing and she knew if she had ever gone back to college that she would major in journalism or creative writing. Perhaps she would be able to talk to the tall dark and handsome student named Daniel Grayson who was in her poetry class freshman year.

Sitting in the corner of the room she chose a chair with little design to it but with little design also came little comfort. She half listened to the people around her talking about their problems because she was too wrapped up in her own to care about theirs. She didn't want to hear what they had to say because it only brought her down. When it was her turn to speak she told them about how she was going to Allenwood and her hopes and dreams…only she made them up because she didn't have any real ones. She was pleased enough that she was able to sound convincing. Emily had taken several acting classes in college and hadn't thought they would come in handy but now was time to play a role. She wanted to play roles now before she had to go to Allenwood where every truth would come out.

* * *

Behind his eyes he felt a stinging sensation but perhaps that was the medicine. They said it would be a side effect, dry eyes and itchiness. He did have a certain itch and not enough fingers or strength to scratch. His skin was covered in little red dots that looked like chicken pox or acne but the doctor said it was a rash that would heal in a day or two once his body was regulated to the prescription. His hands shook as if he had had too much caffeine but his mind was tired and uneasy. He was sick of therapy and group sessions and wanted someone new to talk to. He needed a distraction.

He remembered feeling a bit like this once before but it was when he was sick as a little boy and somehow he had twisted his mother's arm enough into letting him stay home from school. He had lied that day and ran the thermometer under the water to make it seem as if his fever was higher than it was. He knew staying home sick was going to take some effort but he honestly wanted to lie in bed all day with the house to himself because he never got peace and quiet anymore.

It was the same these days, people always chattering and the walls so paper thin.

When he first saw her he was in the day room and it smelled of paint because a patient on the verge of an internal revolution was drawing horses in a field of daisies. This was a picture imprinted in their memory from a day or two ago when they went to the farm to get tiny pumpkins for their rooms. Time blended together in Allenwood so he couldn't remember which day it was exactly that they had gone outside and smelled fresh autumn air. He would however remember seeing this girl who was new in the corner of his eye, her hair dyed black like she was trying to hide something underneath. He heard an orderly check her into the facility and he saw the swing of her retro Pan Am suitcase before looking outside the window to see a rusted car pull away and through the gates down a strip of sand.

It would be two days before he would get a chance to speak with her and properly introduce himself.

* * *

She sat by the window which was barred but still visible enough that you could see the outside and noticed the weather. Winter was going to be rolling in soon and she couldn't wait for the first snow fall as it reminded her of her family before everything happened. She remembered being bundled up by her parents and going down hills of snow on sleds together and all the smiles and hot cocoa and warmth by the fire when the day was said and done. She remembered the comfort and wanted it back. Now even a hug couldn't warm her aching bones because it was just skin on skin and did nothing for her. It was so easily given away. She fingered her hospital bracelets and waited for the season to change right then and there but she knew she would be waiting a long time. When she turned her head from the window she was face to face with a man probably in his later twenties. He was a bit worn around the eyes and his lanky frame and pale complexion didn't do wonders for him. His hair was a light brown with parts that had more of a blonde tone to it and she wondered if that color would be a better fit for him. He was sitting in a chair close to her and he was making eye contact.

She wondered if he was crazy but remembered where they were. Everyone here was crazy, but what was crazy anyway?

Nolan watched the young girl who was probably college age glare at him but he just couldn't look away. She seemed different than the others who were in their own worlds. She seemed like she wanted to be in theirs. Standing up he approached her as he would a frightened puppy. He lingered so she knew he was not going to hurt her and when she gave a head nod for him to join her he sat down in the chair directly across from her, a small coffee table between them without coffee or magazines piled high on top. The day room was surprisingly empty this morning; perhaps things were being restocked and cleaned.

"Hello," he stated simply, not very good at making a succinct introduction of himself.

"Hi," she murmured back feeling just the same. She was a little out of if due to her meds and being new to the place but she didn't want to deny the chance to talk to someone other than therapists or nurses.

"I see you're taking to this place pretty well, better than some of the others," Nolan stated as he moved a hand through his hair realizing it was probably greasy and unkempt.

"Are you kidding me? I'm practically a walking corpse," she told him as she focused on his dialogue.

"I think the correct term is zombie," he told her like he was teaching an important lesson to an eager student.

"Well that's what I feel like right about now," she said as she mirrored his action, her hand ruffling her own hair like she was made of feathers.

"I'm Nolan, Nolan Ross," he stated as he contemplated putting his hand out for a handshake. Afraid she wouldn't take it he kept his hands to himself.

"Emily," she told him, not feeling her last name was necessary. She didn't want him to recognize her as the girl from all the newspapers, the girl whose family was killed in front of her, the remaining survivor, the only one left.

"Pretty name," he told her as he sat Indian style, making the chair he was in creak as if it wasn't made for his weight or the position. Most things were just old in this place even though the walls and floors were updated.

Noticing her journal that was in her lap he was surprised they allowed her to have a pencil but he just knew it meant they were keeping a very close eye on her, that or she was trust worthy and not on the edge of taking her own life. Maybe she was responsible.

"I see you have a journal there," he purred wishing he had one of his own.

"Yes," she said flatly. "I do a lot of writing…"

"Kudos," he said as he stretched out a bit, showing he was casual and open to conversation instead of showing off his introverted side. Truth was, he needed a friend in here. It would make the days go faster.

"It helps me think," she shared before setting it down on the cushion beside her, her eyes transfixed on the marble cover.

"What are you going to write about me?" he asked as he raised a brow, curious to see what she would say.

"That you're tall," she said in a sarcastic tone which made him chuckle out loud, the other patients looking at him because they weren't used to hearing laughter that was maniacal. Usually people weren't very gleeful here. The setting wasn't one of rainbows and unicorns.

"Good answer," he retorted as he crossed his legs at the ankles, his slip on shoes a bit dirty from being outside the other day and walking in mud. "I wish I had one myself."

Emily sat up a bit and looked to the nurse's station. "Oh, why don't you ask the nurses for one then, I'm sure they'd be happy to give it to you."

Nolan looked over to the station and shook his head sadly, his body almost clamping up from tension. "I'm not supposed to have anything sharp," he said and immediately she knew why.


	2. Broken Pieces

The room that she was in was off as it was shaped almost like the oval office in the White House. The room made her think of her trip to DC, Sophomore year of High School and she remembered her mother going with her, the woman's pearly whites showing in each picture she had from that time. She didn't keep a lot of things from her past but a photo album, some clothes and a locket her father had given her with an infinity sign on the top and a picture of him and her mother in the inside. It came in use after their murder as a way to honor them and the infinity sign was now tattooed on the inside of her wrist.

She was in her own head but that was quickly remedied.

"Emily I hear you've made some friends here," her therapist stated rather than asked as she already knew the answer.

Emily was quick to quip. "If you mean I've told people my name and shared a bowl of popcorn with a few of them then yes, friends for life," she said as she flipped her choppy black hair.

"Nurse Harrington told me you've taken to a young man named Nolan here," she said as she licked her lips.

Emily shrugged and looked into her lap. "I guess so, he's been curious about me but I think it's out of loneliness. He said I'm special but I bet he says that to everyone with a vagina like most men," she murmured with a slight bitter tone developing.

Her therapist who wore Sally Jesse Raphael glasses that were red and big and filled her face shook her head with a little smile. "You are special. You just need to make yourself realize that."

"Easier said than done," Emily told her as she reached for her glass of water.

"How is the medication working out for you? How do you feel?" she asked as she pushed her glasses further up on her nose.

"I feel fine, no better no worse. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," she said as she took a sip and didn't stop.

"Thirsty I see," the woman told her and Emily gave her a watchful eye in return.

"Nope, just bored, I've been going to therapy for two years now and nothing has changed. Talking and writing and sitting and popping pills won't bring my family back. I don't think you know what it's like having to tell your story over and over. It's a daunting task," she replied as she set the empty glass down wishing it was full again so she could drink and not speak.

"Let's talk about that, what happened that Palm Sunday," The woman spoke which made Emily mad as if she hadn't listened to her speak at all.

"Did I not just say it was daunting?" Emily asked, her left eye twitching from absolute madness. What she really wanted was a drink, something as strong as vodka or whiskey. Vodka tonic, hold the tonic, yes please.

"I understand that Emily but I think the more you talk about the event, the easier it will be to deal with it all," she said.

"It wasn't an "Event" it was a total shit show. It was a horror story, it was a parade of violence and death and I was caught in the middle of it. I wish I had died with them but now I'm stuck here. Is that what you want to hear?" she asked as she felt the need to smash something.

"I…"

"Let me out of this room," Emily declared with fire in her eyes. The therapist began to speak again but Emily stopped her with her confidence and booming thunder of a voice.

"Let me out of this room."

And she did.

* * *

He remembered his trip to Arizona, the sun blistering his pale skin when he was just a boy and later turning him into a lobster. Instead of a sympathetic ear from his parents he was scolded for staying out so long and not paying close enough attention. Slathering aloe all over his body his mother pat his skin too hard and moved him around like a rag doll cursing his existence and he was only eight at the time. He was told to grow up quickly and never look back because his blue collar life was all he would ever have. Nolan knew he had so much more to look forward to one day but growing up a genius with abusive parents was no party.

In his room at Allenwood labeled 24, Emily Thorne's was 47, he could feel the cooling sensation of the aloe on his skin like he was eight again and sometimes he believed that all he had were his memories. At times it felt like new ones had to be bought or borrowed because nothing stuck. Under the blankets that were stiff his hands moved along his bare arms, the light hairs sticking up there from the friction. Unable to sleep he found solace in the fact that Emily was just down the hall probably doing the same since she had told him earlier that sleeping did not often come to her as it was second nature to most humans.

He knew he had to talk to his therapist in the morning and he knew in the real world that a coffee cup would be in his shaky hands or perhaps a big gulp of the iced kind but tomorrow he would have milk sans any caffeine.

Another sleepless night and another day of lackluster dreams.

* * *

The month changed quickly and that meant the weather too. Emily Thorne had packed lightly which meant she didn't have much in the way of winter clothes. She just assumed she would be there for a few weeks. She knew she wouldn't heal in that time but when something so terrible happens to you, you never really heal.

Nolan was lucky that the long shirts and long johns covered his scars from self- harm and one attempt at suicide. It was something he never spoke about but it was a known fact since all the orderlies were told to keep an eye on him, all the patients who tried to hurt themselves had to be under close observation for their own safety but it made Nolan feel as if he was being watched at all times which made him feel like a stick in the mud. He couldn't be himself, he couldn't express himself and he couldn't speak with a free tongue. He had to hold back even with Emily, the girl who he was so excited to know. There was always little to be curious about behind these walls but there was just something about her.

He told her there was something about her to which she responded, "I bet you say that to all the girls in here."

Nolan Ross smirked and raised a brow as he very obviously checked out one of the male orderlies, "And the boys."

When December came around they huddled together for warmth and cracked jokes but still never spoke of their trauma, well not until now…

* * *

In his hand were a set of playing cards and on his face, a smile. Whenever she walked into the room he brightened up just a smidge. Her hair looked unkempt and her eyes worn but she too wore a hint of a smile because it was nice finally having a friend. Slumping over in her chair she eyed his wrist where the scar began, his sleeves rolled up because he was feeling warm, the heat pumping in from a vent in the wall close to them. She was never one to just reach over and touch a man's skin but she did this time and she instantly regretted it when she saw the fear in his eyes.

"I'm not judging you Nolan; it just makes me wonder if I could ever do it."

Rolling his sleeves back down, Ross pushed the vent down so it wouldn't be blowing on them quite so much. He could tell she was a bit overheated.

"Don't even think about it doll face. Remember permanent solution to a temporary problem and all that yadda yadda. I learned that the hard way," he proclaimed, knowing he had made a mistake.

"I don't know I think my problems are pretty permanent," she told him as she bit her lip. "Did it hurt?" she asked reaching for his wrist again to which instead, he gave her his hand which she graciously took, enjoying a slight moment of comfort.

Looking at the deck of cards she became fixated on the Queen and knew she wanted to be in charge and on top of the world one day. She knew she could be tough instead of soft. She knew her temper could be turned into something wonderful one day, she just didn't know what that was yet. She didn't know what she could turn into, if given the chance.


	3. Brewing

Maybe nothing was ever going to change. Maybe a handful of pills and some white walls weren't the answer after all. Maybe time didn't heal all pain. Maybe the answer was not Allenwood, maybe it never was.

Emily Thorne sat in front of a handheld mirror in her room, a course bristled brush scraping her scalp with each stroke. She felt dirty but no amount of scrubbing had ever made her feel clean. She had felt dirty ever since the mass murder that took place in her childhood home. She had no answers about that either. Hearing a knock on her door she glided over to the handle and let the man on the other side in. Forbidden fruit she called him in her head because even though they were of age and were consenting adults, this type of fraternizing was not allowed. Boys were not allowed in with the girls, but she made an exception for him.

He looked forlorn and she could see it around his eyes. He looked older than usual which immediately worried her.

"What's wrong?" she immediately asked, the words slipping from her lips faster than a seal greased in baby oil.

"Oh never you mind Ems," he purred as he sat in the empty cot across from her, the one yet to have sheets placed upon it.

"Nolan, really…" she coaxed.

"I was denied transfer," he finally admitted.

"Transfer to where?" she asked perking up and almost feeling a critical hit to the chest like the wind had been knocked out of her.

"Out of here," he said simply and somehow almost elegantly like a proper gentleman.

"Out of here then where?" she asked almost about to babble and spit up all over him.

"I want out of here, I've been in here too long and it's only making me more depressed," he complained.

"If you want to leave…"

She was cut off. "I don't want to leave but what other choices do I have? Like I want to leave you? Hell no little lady," he murmured.

"Why me?" she asked. "What makes me so special to you? I'm just some girl…"

"You're not just _some girl_ Emily, you're my girl," he told her and she believed him.

She believed him, she finally trusted someone, the first time in years and he wanted a way out.

"You hardly know me," she retorted. "I won't be your girl for long," she replied.

His eyes lingered to the doorway, not knowing what to say next but when he did it was something beautiful.

"Come with me."

There was a long pause and they could practically hear the building shift as if it was alive beneath them.

"When I get permission granted to get outta here, my grand exit, leave with me. I can take care of, we can take care of each other," he proclaimed as if he was in the middle of some royal gesture.

"Nolan."

She was the logical one; she had to stay, didn't she? Her thought process was jumbled. Nothing was fixed. Maybe she had grown stronger with his help and support but when she thought of everything that had happened to her, the taste of copper in her mouth overwhelmed her.

She could remember every smell, every sound, every image, and every detail. As much as she remembered, she always wanted to forget.

That was not an option.

* * *

On a Tuesday an old friend named Mary Winston came to visit Nolan for a while, an allotted time. Mary had hair so yellow it was almost like cheap gold from a knock off vender. Mary had a mole above her lip that reminded him of Cindy Crawford. Mary had hips that could take a table out if she swung them the wrong way. Mary, turns out, was a bitch.

Nolan looked up from his corner desk where writing was not allowed. The little green detective lamp gave the room a glow that made him almost heated. Eyes turning up he noticed Mary in the frame of the doorway. Everyone who visited him during his days seemed to stand there before coming in as if they were asking for permission or deciding on whether or not he was stable enough for them to talk. There was a smile on her face but it didn't last long when she remembered why he had landed himself in here in the first place.

"Nolan, what have you gotten yourself into?" she asked with little concern.

"Way to make an introduction Mare," he said with a scoff.

"You have your family worried sick, your Aunt Carole is beside herself," she told him to which he already knew from her incessant phone calls.

"Don't I know it, and you? How are you holding up with my less than graceful departure?" he wondered.

She finally came in after lingering in the hallway. She found her ass comfortable on his bed as he sat on the metal chair that was clunky and loud when rearranged in the dormitory styled room that he did not share at the moment.

"Nolan, you definitely did not have a graceful departure, you tried to become a dearly departed. Nolan you tried to kill yourself," she said but he cut her off.

"Yes, we all know this story we can all tell it ourselves with gestures and details; what's your point?" he asked, not wanting to deal.

"Why kill yourself, because your parents didn't love you enough?" she asked thinking he was stupid.

"You have no right to judge, unless you're there Mary, you have nothing to say on the subject of suicide."

"Did you learn your lesson at least?"

* * *

There were so many life lessons to learn but only so much to give of yourself, how could you give 100 percent if you weren't sure there was still 100 percent of you left inside?

Spring had finally come around after a long snowy winter that left fingers cold to the bone and lips almost a shade of blue. Skin was no longer dry from the temperature inside of Allenwood and hot chocolate poured out from a box was no longer on the menu. It was not lemonade season and more of the people there would start wearing floral prints to match the blooming garden outside.

Nolan was feeling a bit better even though his plans to escape from Alcatraz were on hold, maybe it was the change in the season after all or the upped dosage on his medication. Nolan even wore brighter colors too, a pair of teal denim pants and a band t-shirt that made him look like an udderly beautiful cow mama. At Allenwood you didn't have to wear hospital clothes, it was available but not required.

The patients were brought outside to get fresh air and to pick dandelions, to make wishes that would probably never come true. They could wish on a falling star or a lucky penny, a wishing well or a four leaf clover but if they prayed for recovery, it was only going to happen to less than half of them. That was just statistics and fact.

When Emily spotted Nolan across the courtyard she was immediately drawn toward him like he was a glowing magnet. Walking toward him she thought of past conversations before opening that big mouth of hers.

Tucking hair behind her ear she hovered and lingered next to him for a few seconds before asking him a question, "So, Mary stop by for anymore visits?"

There was little else to talk about at this point.

"She has, here and there. I haven't told you because well, she's condescending and I'm too weak to tell her not to come here anymore and to kindly fuck off," he said.

"Do you want me to?" Emily asked, trying to be strong for him. Some people just couldn't do things on their own. They needed to get by with a little help from their friends.

"I need you to be my friend, not my press secretary, just sayin'…"

"Okay."

"Just like that, you aren't going to fight me on this?" he asked as he turned to view her in all her glory, the sunlight catching her face and making her cheekbones stick out like they had never before.

"Just like that," Emily proclaimed as she crossed her arms.

Looking into the sun till her eyes hurt she turned back to him, her whole body shifting to bring him closer.

"So I was thinking…"

"OH you do that?" Nolan asked with a sly little smile on his face.

Emily bumped him with her shoulder nice and hard. "Stop, I'm serious and usually I'm not so much with that. I, you were talking about getting out of here a while back…"

His heart raced for a second, a sudden overwhelming sense of paranoia but also anxiety twitching within him. "I was but that's in the past," he told her as his head suddenly felt itchy like lice had found a new home.

Emily leaned back onto her heels and a smile spread over her face like wildfire. "Well, now it doesn't have to be."


End file.
